


Pop-up Potion Shop

by AstralAsteria



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Gen, Magic, Post-Canon, extremely silly headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 16:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20510129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstralAsteria/pseuds/AstralAsteria
Summary: Nicoletta Goldstein was nothing if not a shrewd businesswoman.When the whole Red Grave incident had finally blown over and Nero'd taken up demon hunting jobs again, she'd turned her attention from crafting devil breakers to cooking up other useful demon-inspired odds and ends. Daggers, swords, guns, baseball bats with a penchant for swinging themselves if you got real mad--she'd crafted a whole arsenal out of the bits and pieces the girls and Nero had been bringing back for her in the past few months. It was great!And then Dante and Vergil came back, and the demon parts started going to someoneelse.





	Pop-up Potion Shop

**Author's Note:**

> This is incredibly silly. It is also perhaps a bit confusing--V and Vergil are used interchangeably at points, because Nico is confused. Bear with her.

Nicoletta Goldstein was nothing if not a shrewd businesswoman.

When the whole Red Grave incident had finally blown over and Nero'd taken up demon hunting jobs again, she'd turned her attention from crafting devil breakers to cooking up other useful demon-inspired odds and ends. Daggers, swords, guns, baseball bats with a penchant for swinging themselves if you got real mad--she'd crafted a whole arsenal out of the bits and pieces the girls and Nero had been bringing back for her in the past few months. It was great. She'd pawn 'em off on collectors who didn't know better, or give 'em to Nero or the girls for testing, and while she wasn't making _much_ off of it, she was making enough.

And then Dante and Vergil came back, and the demon parts started going to someone _else_.

Nico knew the benefits of a little friendly competition in the market. Good for prices, good for marketing, if you spun it right. Competition for her supply, however, was a thing she couldn't abide by. Hard to keep the shelves stocked when she only had one devil hunter bringing in the goods instead of three.

It had taken her a few weeks to figure out where the Devil May Cry main crew had been taking their demon bits, now that they weren't taking 'em to Nico, but she was a smart girl. She'd made a point of offering Dante a ride home from a job one day when he'd gathered up more of some demon plant than he could easily carry, and she'd even offered to help him inside with the squirming, screeching things. They'd dropped 'em in some back room, a library with a dingy old chaise lounge and a desk covered in books and dried herbs and little glass bottles, and it had been pretty obvious who was taking her stock after that:

Dante's fuckin' twin brother.

Which was how she ended up standing in front of the DMC headquarters, on her third cigarette, considering the virtues of marching in there and demanding Vergil share some of the goods, the fuckin' asshole. Dante and the girls were out on a job, so she knew it was just him in there, but it was taking her some time to muster up the mental energy to confront Vergil about this whole thing.

It wasn't that she was _afraid_ of him, although she'd heard plenty from Nero about how his daddy had a bit of a stabby streak in him. It was more that she wasn't really feelin' in the mood to share her work. Yeah, definitely not that his expressionless stare downs gave her the creeps, or the way he could talk with this completely emotionless voice like he was some kind of fuckin' robot made her hair stand on end.

Definitely just that she wasn't feelin' like sharing.

Seven cigarettes and a half a bottle of beer later she managed to convince herself that if she was ever gonna do this damn thing, it had to be now, and she marched into the DMC headquarters ready to lay in to Vergil.

He was folded up on the end of the couch like some kind of house cat, book in one hand, legs crossed all delicate in front of him. He was the most dressed down she'd ever seen him, in black lounge pants and a long-sleeved blue sweater, and she stopped in the middle of the room and sort of just gawked at him for a moment before she remembered why the hell she'd come there in the first place.

He looked so _domestic_. It was fuckin' creepy.

"Nicoletta," he said as way of greeting, closing his book, finger stuck between the pages to hold his place. "I'm afraid Dante isn't here, if you're looking for him."

His voice snapped her back into reality. Oh yeah, she was supposed to be pissed.

"Naw, I'm here to talk to you, V," she said, pointing at him with an accusatory finger. "You've been stealin' my supplies and I ain't havin' it any more."

He quirked a brow at her, a look of amusement curling at the corner of his lips.

"Your supplies?" 

"Yeah, ya dick. You know I make stuff for the crew out of demon bits. 'Cept all the sudden I stopped gettin' any bits to make shit _with._ Wonder who's fault that it," Nico said, jabbing in his direction once more. She fished a cigarette out of her pocket and stuck it between her lips, but she didn't light it. Dante'd probably ban her from the shop for months if she smoked in there. Them demon boys were so sensitive about a little bit of cigarette smoke.

Big babies, the whole lot of 'em.

Vergil just hummed thoughtfully in response, seeming pretty damn unconcerned with the fact he was running her out of business.

"What the hell are you even doin' with all those parts anyway?"

He sat in silence for a long moment, those creepy silver eyes of his staring right at her face unblinkingly, before he laughed and sat his book to one side.

"I'll show you," he said, climbing to his feet and disappearing down the back hallway of the Devil May Cry, toward that library she knew was back there. Nico followed after, her mechanic's curiosity winning out over her general unease when it came to all things Vergil related. 

Turned out he was making wards, potions, spell scrolls--you fuckin' name it, if it was occult, Vergil was makin' it. She'd been thoroughly impressed with his handiwork and, being the shrewd businesswoman that she was, she'd immediately proposed a deal.

"We split the supply. I get the bits that make weapons, you get the bits that make your magicy bullshit, and we both get to keep eatin'."

He'd been amenable to that arrangement, shockingly enough, and had even begun prying for details about her own work. Which is how she'd told him about them dumbass collectors she sold to, which got him interested in selling _his_ own weird bullshit, which got them talkin' business.

"Our mother used to sell her alchemical compounds to the people of Red Grave," Vergil explained as he handed her some musty old textbook about plants and their millions of different uses. Herbalism wasn't her interest, but who would'a thought potions were actually a thing. Learn something new every day.

"Shit, you mean like, she was some sorta witch?" Nico asked, flipping through the book, marveling at the tiny and precise handwriting that lined the margins. Half of it looked old, the ink faded with time, but the other half looked newer--she recognized that handwriting as Vergil's, written in all caps, much like Nero's, but perfectly even, not a single letter out of place. Dude was a perfectionist in every way, wasn't he?

"You could say that," Vergil said with a small smile, taking back the book when she offered it to him. 

"You think there's still a market for that?" She said, leaning back on the chaise lounge where she'd set up shop, chewing on the end of the cigarette thoughtfully. They could work with that. She'd made a few things that the average person might be interested in, and she had the van they could sell their wares out of. She had plenty of downtime when she wasn't drivin' Nero around where they could set up a shop...

"Oh shit, V, I have the best fuckin' idea." He quirked a brow at her in curiosity, tilting his head to indicate she should continue. "Okay okay okay, get this: portable shop. Ya said people in Red Grave used to buy your momma's stuff, right? Bet they'd still be interested, especially after you dumped a shitton of demons on top of 'em. You sell your freaky shit, I sell my practical shit, we make some cash. What'cha think?"

He seemed to consider this for a moment, fingers drumming on the top of the herbalism book in his lap, before he nodded.

"Why not." 

Hell yeah.

* * *

It took her a few weeks to get the van converted the way that she wanted it, but she was damn proud of her work now that it was done. Vergil was standing next to the van, a bemused grin on his face, waiting for her to demonstrate her genius.

"Alright, just you wait. You're gonna love it," she said as she ducked back into the van. Once inside, she pressed a button against the side wall, and the top half of the wall folded down into a little counter top and hiding the Devil May Cry sign from sight. (They'd decided it was probably for the better if they left the business name out of it.) She beamed down at him through their new shopfront in delight.

It was kinda like a taco truck, but for demon bits and weird fuckin' potions. Pretty rad, if you asked her.

"So we just pop this bad boy out, I dunno, decorate it or somethin', and BAM. Shop wherever we want. Ya just hit this button and it folds back up and we can move somewhere else if we ain't gettin' any sales. Pretty smart, yeah?"

He looked genuinely impressed. She hid a blush behind the act of rummaging off to the side for a cigarette as he peered in through the new opening, checking out how she'd set it up.

"This will work," he said, placing a hand on the counter-top. "Although I believe it's missing a little bit of the necessary atmosphere."

Nico waved a hand at him, leaning back out of the window once she'd schooled her blush back under control to look down at him.

"I'mma put that in your hands, V. Not my strong point. I'm more a function over form kinda gal."

The smile on his face in response was downright concerning.

* * *

Vergil was the most extra bastard Nico'd ever met.

When she'd put him in charge of aesthetics, she'd expected him to go practical with it. Nice hand written sign or some such shit. What she hadn't expected was for him to show up with a box of shit she'd expect to see in one of those "palm reading for $15" shops.

She poked through the contents of his box while he fussed over some papers -- "Seller's contracts, Nico. Do you want to be sued by surviving family members when someone fails to follow directions?" -- utterly shocked that he'd gone through as much trouble as he had. 

The box contained the following: a velvety black cloth with silver stars embroidered throughout, a stack of tarot cards (worn, clearly used), a random assortment of crystals, and several wooden potion racks for keeping his wares in.

He had also printed... flyers. Or hand made them, probably, since the ink didn't look printed, and she was pretty damn sure he had no idea what a computer even _was_ let alone how to use it.

Those were probably the corniest thing of them all. Who knew that Vergil, twin brother of Dante, possible sociopath and hell-gate opening asshole, was a complete and utter fuckin' _dork._

_Original and Authentic hand crafted Goodes_  
_Magickal tokens, potions, and Equipment_  
_for all of your Daemon Protection needs_

and then, at the bottom, in very small but exacting script:

_no refunds. sellers are not responsible for any dismemberment, death, or other injury as a result of failure to follow explicit instructions_

"V. What the hell, man," she said, holding up one of the flyers and pointing at the word "Goodes." "This ain't how you spell 'goods,' ya know."

Vergil rolled his eyes at her.

"Humans are simple and stupid. They expect a certain style when it comes to the occult, and it will only benefit us to match those expectations," he said, waving her off while he continued working on their contracts. "You should have seen the ones our mother had. They were worse."

"Can't imagine anything worse than spelling magical with a fuckin' 'k,' but I'll take your word for it."

* * *

Nico looked out of the van at V, jaw hanging open.

"You, uh. Can do that? At will or somethin'?" she asked, gesturing at Vergil--or, well, V, who was once more the slender black-haired human she had worked with for that month during the Red Grave incident. He sighed at her as he climbed into the van, possessing an obvious strength that V hadn't before. Which probably (hopefully) meant he hadn't gone and split himself in half again or some crazy shit and was just using his weird demon magic to disguise himself.

Hopefully.

"It is simply an illusion," he said, running a hand through his hair. She noticed that he had the cane, although he wasn't using it to walk; rather, he wielded it as if it were that katana of his. It probably was, now that she thought about it. Smart.

Cane aside, he'd opted for a different outfit than the leather corset and sandals from before, instead dressed a little more to Vergil's standards. Black leather pants, knee-high dark brown boots, a white button-down and teal vest with the most absurdly elaborate jacket she'd ever seen.

He was even wearing white cloth gloves, like some kind of fancy aristocrat or somethin'.

It was very Vergil of him, alright, and seeing this weird combination of Vergil and V was kinda giving her the creeps.

"So why the disguise?" She asked as she plopped down in the driver's seat and started up the van. He folded himself into the passenger's side next to her, placing his cane in his lap and bracing a hand on the door. She smirked at that--he was probably the biggest baby when it came to her driving. Guess twenty-five years not being in a car would do that to a person, though.

"A Son of Sparda does not hawk their wares like some simple merchant, never-mind the fact I am also, technically speaking, still the king of hell. I have a reputation to uphold," he said in that haughty "I'm so much better than all the humans" voice he often used. "A Son of Eva, on the other hand, is a practical businessman with a brother who spends far too much money on pizza and leather coats."

She snorted out a laugh, taking a corner on a side-street that she knew would lead to the most densely populated of the rehabilitated districts in Red Grave City. The little noise of disgust her sudden turn got out of him was absolutely worth the fact it threw her cigarette out of her mouth to do it.

"Well let's hope that reputation of your momma's still holds up."

* * *

Eva's reputation did, in fact, hold up. It took them a few tries to find a street that was populated with enough demon hunters and stubborn bastards insisting on living in Red Grave despite the risks, but once they got their first few customers, business was boomin'. Vergil's shit sold more than hers, which was alright, 'cause they were splitting the profits evenly anyway. By the time the sun was disappearing behind the dried out husk of the Qliphoth tree, they were out of wares to sell, and Vergil (but still V, she guessed--god_damn_ was that confusing) was perched on the couch in the van counting their cash.

"So, what'd we earn?" Nico asked as she gathered up the odds and ends they'd used to decorate the shopfront, shoving them into a box beneath the fold out window. With that done, she pressed the button to close up before plopping down on the couch next to V, leaning in close to get a look at the cash in his lap.

He leaned away, putting a little more space between them, but didn't shove her off the couch like she was expecting. Must be gettin' used to her.

"Here," he said, handing her what looked like roughly half the stack. She flipped through it with a low whistle. Hell yeah, that was more than enough to pay Kyrie some rent money. Not that they expected rent from her, but she wasn't a woman who liked livin' off the good will of others alone, and it was about time she started helping those two out with the costs of raisin' the kids.

"Not bad, V! We make a pretty damn good team, huh?" She said, slapping him on the shoulder as she stood to move to the driver's seat. He visibly stiffened under her touch, but he offered her a thin, almost human looking little smile in response.

"I would say that we do, yes."

"So what, we go around next week? You need time to stock back up, I reckon," Nico said as she popped a cigarette between her lips and started up the van. After a moment of hesitation, Vergil joined her--looking like himself again, and ain't that just the weirdest shit. Demons and their damn weird magic were gonna be the death of her some day.

"That should be sufficient time," he said, that sword of his on his lap and a neutral look on his face like he wasn't trying to fight back the urge to hang on to the dashboard for dear life. "You did well, Nicoletta."

She blushed at the praise, turning her face away under the pretext of checking the side mirror (a lie, 'cause she barely checked mirrors, but he didn't need to know that). 

"Yeah, well, you ain't so bad yourself. For a sociopath." 

Nico laughed when his brow creased and he glared at her out of the corner of his eye. Like father, like son--they were both easy as hell to poke fun at.

Well, moodiness aside, she was pretty happy with this whole business situation. She got the parts she needed, they swapped demon part tinkerin' tips, and hell, she made more money followin' Vergil's advice than she had in the last five years workin' on her own.

She could definitely get used to this.


End file.
